


gonna give you the D cuz you never gave me an A

by embro



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 10 seconds of blow jobs, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Bottom Harry, Hair Pulling Kink, Hand Jobs, Harry calls Louis Sir a lot, Its a Thing, M/M, Smut, Top Louis, a sex thing, harry's first time with a dude, kind of, kind of dom/subby, more like ex-student/ ex-teacher but it plays around with the kink a bit, sex in the butt, sort of ziall, well as dom/subby as i will ever get because i am weak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:05:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embro/pseuds/embro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry gets a chance to see his old teacher Mr Tomlinson, the only teacher who ever failed him. </p><p>He wants to fuck Louis over. Then he just wants Louis to fuck him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gonna give you the D cuz you never gave me an A

**Author's Note:**

> I remade on [Tumblr ](http://harryventura.tumblr.com)

He spotted the only reason he came an hour in to the stupid thing. 

It was a fundraiser for his old high school, and Harry had scoffed when he’d first received the invitation. It spoke of City of London School’s hopes to build a new pool, but obviously they couldn’t do it without attempting to wring out more money from its ex-pupils. 

“Why in fuck’s name would anyone our age go? We haven’t even been out of the place for three years, do they expect us to be willing to spend the little bit of cash we have on them?” Niall had laughed. 

Their invitations had arrived on a Thursday, the day they always met up at the campus bar for a catchup over a few beers, so the high school fundraiser was fresh in their minds. 

Niall took another gulp of his beer before he added “And it’s a proper dinner thing, too. Like, again, why would anyone under 25 bother? If it was a piss-up then I’d be there with bells on.”

Harry shrugged. “These things usually have an open bar.”

And Niall blinked. “You’re not considering going, are you?” 

“I was actually. Mum’d buy me a ticket if I asked, I’m sure of it.”

“But why would you ask? Why in fuck’s name would you want to go to some stuffy dinner with our old principal and teachers and a few old twatty graduates?” 

“Mr Tomlinson.” Harry said with a toothy grin, and Niall’s frown slowly disappeared.

Then, quick as a flash, he was laughing. Hard. It wasn’t until he was bright red that he stopped. “You always fucking hated him. What have you got planned? Spilling red wine down the dumb white button up he’s probably gonna wear? Putting laxatives in his tea?”

“Haven’t quite thought that far yet.” Harry said, finger tugging at his bottom lip. “It’s got to be something good though. He made Twelfth and Thirteenth utter hell.”

“You only had him for four hours a week.”

“It was _biology_ though. I’m shit at science to begin with.”

Niall sat back on his stool, watching Harry with tight lips. The brunette just raised an eyebrow, and Niall hummed. “I never really got why he was such an arse to you.” 

“Because I was shit at science. Instead of helping me out or getting me a tutor, he just failed me. Fucking prick. Called me a smart-arse in front of everyone.”

“You were though, a bit.” Niall said with a grin, and Harry frowned back at him. 

He knew it though. He was an absolute smarmy twat in High School. He was charming, and handsome, and had family in high places so he could get away with almost anything. He would have gotten away with _absolutely_ everything if it wasn’t for Mr Tomlinson. 

An excuse that had worked on the other teachers wouldn’t work on his science teacher. When Harry would say “I had football practice”, Tomlinson would say “I’m glad, you need it. Still doesn’t explain why you couldn’t read the chapter” and slap him with a detention. 

When Harry would tell jokes, all the teachers laughed except one; instead, to him, he was a distraction, a nuisance, a self-absorbed little brat. That last one had stung. Probably because it was too close to the truth. 

In hind-sight, Harry was much more disrupting in Tomlinson’s classes than he was any others. Blame it on his need for approval or his obsession with being liked, but he’d tried extra hard to make that teacher laugh. Which was dumb, because it was obvious their sense of humour was completely different. Mr Tomlinson didn’t find _immature pranks_ very funny. 

 

“Maybe he was in love with you.” Niall grinned. “Maybe he was so mad at you all the time because it was easier to resist you that way.”

“You’re such a tit.” 

“Maybe that’s how you could get back at him. Lead him on or something.”

“I couldn’t do that. I’ve never gone for a guy before, I wouldn’t even know how to do it.” Harry said quickly, before Niall could get too ahead of himself. He had a habit of coming up with awful plans and thinking they were brilliant enough to test. They never were. 

“I doubt it would be much different to picking up girls, and you’re ace at that.”

Harry chewed at the inside of his bottom lip as he thought. It had got around school that Louis was gay as soon as he started teaching, and the principal even confirmed the rumours when there was some parent uproar about it. Then he suggested that if anyone did have an issue, they were welcome to enrol their children somewhere else. That shut everyone up; City of London was one of the best.

“And you think he was into me?" Harry asked hesitantly, knowing full well the danger of getting Niall’s hopes up.

Niall shrugged. “You’re a good looking guy. He might have.” 

“So, you reckon I should just flirt with him? And then what?” 

“Drop him. Say _maybe if you’d been nicer in school I’d actually go home with you_. Or something.”

Harry shook his head, smile turning his cheeks up, as he said “It sounds like you’ve thought a lot more about this than you’re letting on.” 

To which Niall replied with a roll of his eyes. “I watch a lot of shit telly, you know that. So are you gonna do it?” 

Harry put his elbows on the bar top and his chin in his hands. “Just lead him on and shut him down? Yeah, sounds easy enough. So are you gonna come too, then?” Niall opened his mouth to say something but Harry jumped in with “You won’t want to miss me making an arse out of myself will you?” And Harry blinked his eyes slow, lashes languid so that Niall would have to say yes.

“You got me there.”

\---

Mr Tomlinson had been talking to Zayn Malik when Harry saw him, and both looked a lot different to how he remembered them. Zayn had gone through a bit of a goth phase during their last year of school; nothing major, because their uniform code was pretty strict, but he’d managed to get away with a few little things under the guise of _artistic self expression_. Just a bit of eyeliner and a peroxide blonde streak through his high quiff, but after school he’d slap on studded wrist cuffs and some Doc Martens for the ride home. Which he got from his boyfriends, who changed almost every week but were consistently a few years older. Zayn liked his men mature, and that clearly hadn’t changed if the way he was laughing loudly at whatever Mr Tomlinson was saying was anything to go by. What had changed, though, was his hair and his style. He looked incredible. Not as good as Tomlinson though. 

Mr Tomlinson was wearing a dark blazer with rolled up sleeves, a white shirt, tight cuffed black jeans and Harry couldn’t quite see his shoes. He had unstyled stubble and his hair looked like he’d just pushed it back off his face with a wet hand, and fuck did he look good. Nothing like the pressed-shirted-and-beige-trousered Tomlinson he remembered. 

Suddenly, Harry’s shirt collar felt suffocating. He undid the top three buttons, and took his jacket off, slipping it over the back of his chair. 

“I see him.” Niall grunted in his ear, and Harry flinched back. His breath had been too hot on his neck, sending an uncomfortable shiver down his side. 

“I know. Talking to Malik.”

Niall’s eyes widened. “Malik? No way! Oi, Zayn!” he yelled without any kind of warning, and both Malik and Tomlinson turned with small frowns. Zayn’s face brightened, while Louis’ stare hardened, and Harry desperately wished it wasn’t too late for him to crawl under the table and hide. Not only had the two men turned, but so did everyone else in the school hall; from ex-students that had graduated at least 20 years ago to current school teachers, they were all glaring. 

“Niall! Fucking hell!” Zayn’s voice came from a whole lot closer, commanding Harry’s attention again. He hadn’t seen exactly when it happened, but both Zayn and Tomlinson were standing by their table, one shaking Niall’s hand while the other pulled him into a one-armed hug. “And Styles! How’re you going?”

Harry cleared his throat and plastered on his very best smile before standing up too, shaking Zayn’s offered hand. He turned to his ex-teacher, whose lips were still pressed into a hard line, and offered him his hand. The other man took it, albeit reluctantly, and shook it just once, a single up-and-down, before letting it go. “I’m good, yeah. Yourself?” 

“Really well! In my last year of getting a teaching degree.” Zayn offered up. 

“Is that what you two were talking about, then? Teaching?” Harry asked with a polite smile, hoping he wasn’t being too obvious. 

Mr Tomlinson audibly scoffed, but Zayn was none-the-wiser. “We weren’t actually. I was just thanking Louis for making school so amazing. If he hadn’t been so open about who he was, I could have turned out a whole lot different.” 

“Yeah? Well that’s great mate!” Niall said with a big grin, cheeks reddening from the strain he was putting them under. “I always admired you for that, you know, Zayn. You were your own person and I always thought that was amazing considering the type of shits we went to school with.” 

Zayn’s eyes flickered over to Harry, and it mightn’t have meant a single thing but Harry wasn’t sure. 

“Amazing.” Louis agreed, smiling humourlessly, and that most definitely meant something. 

“I wasn’t that bad.” Harry blurted, and it was comforting how quickly Zayn’s expression fell to one of confusion. 

“We weren’t talking about you, Harry.” Zayn assured him, and again Louis just snorted. 

“Do you have something you want to say?” Harry snapped. But Tomlinson didn’t even have to do anything, not tighten his lips or harden his eyes or utter a word, before Harry was apologising with a murmured “Sorry Sir.”

That actually made him smile. Only small, and for a few seconds, but still. It was something. “I’ve got to speak to Liam about work stuff. We’ll continue our talk soon.” Louis added, patting Zayn on the shoulder, before he was spinning around on his heels and striding towards a man sitting at another table. Harry didn’t recognise him, but he was scruffy and handsome and Louis was touching his shoulder. Harry tried not to get too worried. Louis seemed to touch everybody’s shoulder. Except his.

“What was that? You can’t exactly assert your authority over someone you call Sir.” Niall startled him out of his thoughts with a light punch to the arm. 

“What do you mean?” Zayn asked, brows furrowed. 

“Nothing. I’m not here to tread on anyone’s toes.” Harry said, quickly, because Zayn was still eyeing off Louis and the stranger with sharp eyes. Like he was jealous or something.

“What?” Zayn repeated. 

“I’m – are you trying to get off with Mr Tomlinson?” 

That had Zayn’s head snapping back, forehead crinkled and lips pursed in distaste. “What the fuck? He’s old.” 

“He’s not even thirty.” 

And Zayn grinned. “You’re kidding right? You’re not even gay.” 

“I –“ And Harry stopped. And Zayn nodded like he understood, which was odd because Harry sure as fuck didn’t.

“He’s trying to woo Louis to get back at him for being a prick.” Niall butted in. 

“I’m not.” Harry got out. “Plan’s off. He won’t even look at me. I’ve got no chance with him.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Zayn said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. What was with everyone and shoulder pats? “He’s looking at us now.” He added under his breath, and Zayn grabbed his jaw before he could turn around to look. “You’re too obvious.” 

“I haven’t even spoke to him, how would he know I’m interested?” Harry said, words coming out a murmured mess. Zayn was still squeezing his jaw, squishing his lips together. 

“I meant that if you’d look, he would know we were talking about him. You’ve got to play it cool.” Then Zayn’s eyes flickered to Harry’s left, gazing over his shoulder for a moment, before glancing back up to Harry. “He’s still watching. He looks miffed. Probably because I’m touching you.”

“Yeah, because he wants in on your pants.” Harry grunted, but Zayn’s words didn’t stop his stomach rolling at the thought of Louis wanting him.

“He doesn’t. I know when someone is into me, and he isn’t into me.” Zayn finally let Harry go, and the boy had to try his hardest to stop himself turning around to look at Louis. “Laugh like I’ve said something funny.” 

So Harry forced out a laugh, one that was too loud and throaty and so obviously faked that Niall cringed. 

But Zayn grinned. “Good. He’ll think you’re laughing to make me like you.” 

“How do you know this stuff?” Niall asked, sounding somewhat wistful. 

“I’ve seen it loads of times.” Zayn muttered. “Now take one of my hands and act like you have a reason for it. Play with my fingers or look at my watch or something.” 

Harry did what he was told again, clutching Zayn’s hand in his and bringing them up between them. Then he pressed them together as if he was comparing the sizes of their palms, and Zayn started to giggle. It was a sweet sound, and Harry was taken aback by it. 

“You’re good at this.” Niall grunted. “I’m feeling really left out here.”

Zayn looked to Niall and winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to you soon.” And Niall blushed and Harry grinned because he liked the idea of the two of them. 

Harry was waiting for his next instruction when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around, but felt his face drop when he saw it was the stranger and not Louis coming to claim him. “Hello?” he asked, and the man’s smile didn’t even falter at how disinterested he sounded.

“You’re Harry Styles, right? I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, and he didn’t intend to sound so pathetically hopeful but he could only wonder what Louis might have said. 

“Yeah, Simon talks about you like you’re the second coming.” 

And there went his smile. “Simon? Like the principal?” 

“Yeah, you’re a legend. He makes it sound like you built the library single-handed.” 

“Oh. That was Mum. Well, she paid people to build it, but still. Praise be to her I guess.” The guy laughed, so Harry figured he was alright. He stuck out his hand and said “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Liam.” He said as he shook it. “Payne. I’m a new teacher. Just started.”

“Oh. Cool.” Harry said, smile straining. He didn’t want to be rude, but he was desperate to find Louis again. He also didn’t want anyone to know he was desperate to, either, so he couldn’t exactly look around. He needed Zayn and his instructions. “Meet my mates.” Harry said suddenly, and span back around to face Niall. Who was talking to Louis. Shit. “Umm.”

“Hi, I’m Zayn.” The boy said immediately, and Harry sighed in relief. This guy was incredibly quick on his feet; Harry was impressed. “Another ex-student.” 

“So, Harry.” His attention was demanded by Niall, who was just grinning wide. “Louis wants to know how we’re getting on.” 

“I wasn’t asking about –“ Louis started, but Niall was quick to interrupt him.

“Harry’s studying sociology.” 

“It’s a science.” Harry said, and Louis just blinked at him. 

Then rolled his eyes and said “Not a real one.”

“I – “ Harry got out, then thought better of it. Wasn’t exactly best to argue with someone you’re trying to seduce. “You know best.” He said, and bowed his head. When he looked up from beneath his lashes, Louis was eyeing him speculatively; like he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing. And for some reason, Harry thought this would be the perfect time to make his move. “Do you like what you see?” 

“Excuse me?” Louis asked, stepping back.

And Harry blushed. “I thought -”

Louis grabbed his wrist and wrenched him forward, and Harry’s breath came out in an audible whoosh. He was pressed up against Louis, hand on Louis’ hip to hold himself up, when the older man leant in to press his cheek against Harry’s. Who felt Louis’ lips move against his ear lobe before he heard the words “What happened to the cockiness? Somebody finally put you in your place?” 

When Harry groaned, Louis stepped back, letting go of him completely so that Harry could no longer feel a single inch of him against his skin. “I want you to.” He whimpered, so low he wasn’t sure Louis heard him. 

Harry hoped Louis hadn’t heard him, because if he did it would mean he was being rejected; Louis smirked and turned and headed back to his table, and Liam excused himself from Zayn and rushed after him. 

Harry collapsed into his chair, and pushed his hair away from his face. He could feel strands sticking to his forehead, and he wished his nerves hadn’t been so obvious. And that _he_ hadn’t been so obvious; he’d practically flung himself at Tomlinson. He’d just given away the upper-hand and he wasn’t even sure he cared all that much. 

“So?” Niall asked, and Harry looked up from his sweaty palms to glare at his best mate. 

“This is all your fault. I didn’t even think of Mr Tomlinson as anything but a prick before you had to put the idea of seducing him in my head.” 

“Really? You never thought he was hot?” 

“You thought he was hot?” 

“Well, yeah, I guess. He’s a handsome guy.”

“But would you fuck him?” 

“Fuck who?” Zayn interrupted, dropping onto the chair next to Niall. 

“Louis.” Niall replied, then shrugged. “Maybe. Something tells me Louis doesn’t get fucked though.”

Zayn nodded. “He definitely tops. I reckon he’s a bit pushy too. Like, the type to hold you up against a wall and ram home.” 

“Jesus.” Harry muttered, feeling himself go bright red. 

Then Zayn was leaning in and clutching his wrist. “How can you expect to get Louis to fuck you if you turn into a blushing sweaty mess at the mere mention of a bit of rough stuff?” 

“I don’t – It’s – Like – Fuck.” Harry groaned, and thumped his head down onto the table. Zayn was pressing his fingertips against the blue veins on the inside of his forearm, and it felt quite nice. 

“Hang on. Is this about actually getting him to fuck you now?” Niall asked, and Harry turned his head to look up at him, cheek pressed against the white table cloth. 

“Obviously.” Zayn said with a toothy smile. “Now, stop acting like a hopeless git because that’s not going to interest him. You got to go back to acting smarmy and cocky and like you could have anyone in the room.”

“But he always hated me for that.” Harry muttered, and pressed his face back into the hard wood.

“Yeah, and that’s how you’ll get hate sex. It’s pretty much your only option.” 

Harry sighed loud and slowly sat back up. “What’s with the arm thing?” 

Zayn frowned, and Harry bent the wrist clutched in Zayn’s hands back and forth until the boy got the hint. “Louis’ been watching this whole time, just staring at it. It’s very aesthetically pleasing. The colour of my hand makes yours look even paler and thinner and fragile. I reckon it’s a turn-on for him.” 

“Where do you come up with this shit?” Niall asked in an awe-tinged voice. “You going to be a sex teacher or something?”

“I’ve just got good intuition.” Zayn muttered, sounding distant. Until he was suddenly snapping forward, eyes piercing into Harry’s. “He’s coming over. Ignore him and chat me up.” 

“He _knows_.” Harry hissed, but Zayn just let go of his wrist and sat back in his seat and looked up above Harry’s head. When Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, he tried not to jump. And when he heard Louis’ voice, he tried not to shiver. 

“Is there room at this table for one more?” he said, and Harry took a deep breath and shrugged, knocking Louis’ hands off him. 

“Sit there.” Harry waved absently at one of the free chairs across from him. “So, Zayn, that sounds fascinating. But LSE is ranked number 5 in the world for sociology. I feel like I’m getting the best education I can get. The only better ones are in America.” Zayn just blinked back, wide eyed, and Tomlinson scoffed. Which made Niall grin. And Harry ask “Where did you study Louis?” 

The older man stared daggers back at Harry, and the boy grinned cheekily back. Tomlinson pushed his hair out of his eyes, just a few strands that had fallen loose, and said “Manchester.” Then he grinned and put his hand to his chest. “I’m sorry, for the life of me I just can’t seem to recall what my course was ranked in the world. Aren’t I a fool?” 

Harry tried to look as sympathetic as possible, knowing full well how much that would grate on Louis, before he turned back to Zayn and took a hold of his wrist, pressing his fingertips to the underside like how he’d been gripped. “Now, where were we?”

And Zayn giggled again, and Niall grunted “Fucking hell, finally!” Harry looked over to him with a small frown, and Niall rolled his eyes and said “Food’s coming.” 

A plate of chicken breast under bright orange sauce was placed in front of Harry, and he frowned because he hadn’t ordered that. Then he looked beside him, and saw Niall’s steak and potatoes. “How’d you get that?”

“It’s one of those alternating meals things, you know? Where every second person gets the same meal and you can swap with each other?”

“Want to swap?” Harry asked hopefully, and Niall snorted before digging in. Harry glanced over at the others on his table, all of them already eating except Louis. Who had steak, and was eyeing it with a furrowed brow and crinkled nose. Then Louis was glancing up, eyes meeting Harry’s, before dropping down to his plate. 

“Swap with me.” He demanded, and Harry almost nodded but caught himself.

Then smiled, cut himself a bit of chicken breast, and popped it into his mouth. The sauce was fucking spicy, and Harry didn’t do spicy. Still, he kept his face passive and said “Delicious.” 

Louis rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a twat, I just heard you ask Niall to swap.”

“I’ve changed my mind.” 

“Well change it back.” Louis snarled, and the sound resonated down Harry’s spine. It took him every ounce of self-restraint not to whimper, so he didn’t have enough left to stop himself pushing his plate across the table until it was in front of Louis. “Thank you.” He grunted, then nudged his own meal into Harry’s hands. 

He found himself watching Louis eat; how he cut up the entire piece of chicken in small pieces before taking a single bite, how he ate all of his vegetables except the carrots, how he took a sip of white wine every fourth mouthful of food. At one point, a small bit of sauce ran down his chin and Harry could have died when Louis’ tongue slipped out from between his lips to lick it off. 

“Harry?” a voice startled him out of his trance, and he turned his head to see Zayn giving him a small smile. “Both the desserts sound delicious, don’t they?” 

Harry nodded, even though he had no clue what they were. He returned Zayn’s smile, then said “We could share them. Sit in my lap and I’ll feed it to you.” 

Zayn laughed his sweet laugh, nose crinkling up, and said “Finish your meat first you caveman.” 

And Harry laughed, for real this time, because how did Zayn do it – go from a cool and collected sophisticate to a giggling swooning flirt? 

There was a sharp screech of knife on plate, and all eyes snapped to Louis. Whose teeth were clenched and whose knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping his cutlery. Harry smirked, then picked up his own utensils to finish off his meal. 

While their plates were being cleared, Liam from earlier came over to their table for a visit. He stood between Louis and Zayn, and leant down to whisper something in Louis’ ear. Harry caught the small smile Louis couldn’t hold back and he frowned. Then signed for Zayn to come over and sit on his lap. 

Zayn looked somewhat hesitant, eyes flicking over to Niall, and seemed to make his decision when he realised the blonde didn’t look at all bothered. He was actually licking gravy off his plate before the waiter could take it away. 

“So do I need to be worried about Liam?” Harry muttered into Zayn’s ear once the boy was sitting comfortably on his thighs. 

“Nah, he’s as straight as an arrow.” Zayn whispered back. “You’re doing good. Louis’ been half hard since the showdown about the dinner swap.”

Harry laughed into Zayn’s neck. “So what do you think of Niall, huh?” 

Zayn smiled and looked away, revealing to Harry his pink flushed cheeks. “He’s cute. Confusing the hell out of me though.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I can’t work out if he’s interested.”

“He is, I can tell. You may be King of Intuition, but I’m Niall’s best mate and to me he’s like an open book. It doesn’t take much to get him into bed, either. Offer to get him a drink and he’ll be yours.” 

Zayn laughed, louder this time, and actually honest; not pretending like the other times. 

There was a loud screeching sound from across the table, and Harry looked to see Louis pushing back his chair and standing up. “Let’s go.” He grunted to Liam, who followed him with wide scared eyes. 

“Go where? He’s not leaving, is he?” Harry asked, standing up so suddenly that Zayn crumpled onto the ground. From higher up, Harry could see that Liam had gone back to his table but Louis was nowhere to be found. 

“He’s probably in the loo, don’t worry about it.” Niall assured him, and once Zayn picked himself up from the floor he nodded too. 

“Yeah, just sit down and wait for your dessert.”

Harry shook his head and said “I’m gonna go see.” 

It hadn’t been _that_ long since he’d graduated, so Harry had a pretty good idea of where the closest toilets were. Well, he thought he did. 

He went up the stairs to get out of the school hall, then turned left to walk down the hallway a bit. He passed what looked like his old maths class, and began to guess from there. But his sense of directions was terrible, and he ended up getting lost in the main school building. 

All the rooms looked the same, and when he turned around to head back the way he came he couldn’t remember whether he’d come from the left or the right. He was two seconds away from panicking before he heard a voice. 

“What the fuck are you doing in the halls, Styles?” 

Harry sighed out in relief, and turned to see Tomlinson with clenched fists and a tight jaw. Harry cocked his hip and rolled his eyes. “Not looking for you. I need to piss.” 

“No you don’t. What you need is to be put in your place.” Louis snarled as he closed the gap between them with long strides. 

It sent a thrill up Harry’s spine, and he had to try his absolute hardest not to smile. “I’m quite happy with the place I’m in now, thank you very much Louis.” 

“It’s Mr Tomlinson to you.” 

Louis said it so low, so slow, that Harry’s smile dropped. He’d had enough of the game now. He just wanted his ex-teacher to fuck him. “And what if I don’t want to, _Louis_?” 

Louis’ lips hardened, and his chin jut out, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared icily back, eyes unwavering. 

“You going to ask me to call you _Sir_ next?” Harry purred. 

And Louis smiled; humourlessly, slow and sultry. “You’ve already called me that once tonight, Styles, it can’t hurt to say it again.” 

“You’re gonna have to earn my respect first, Louis.” 

Louis started walking closer, and Harry wasn’t shocked by his initial response to run; usually, when someone approaches you looking like they’d prefer your head on a stick, it’s what you would do. But Harry stood his ground, staring back at Louis, right until their noses were an inch apart. Louis grinned, so wide his little sharp elfin canines were jutting into his bottom lip. Harry returned the smile, until he felt Louis’ fingers entwining in the hair at the nape of his neck and wrenching his head back. Harry grunted “Fuck!”, eyes clenched shut at the sharp pain radiating from his scalp. 

He felt Louis’ teeth at his neck, digging into his flesh, and he yelped like a dog. “Do I really have to earn it, Styles?” 

Harry’s head was foggy, and he couldn’t find words let alone say any. Louis’ breath was hot and wet against his skin, and his small fingers were still grasping onto his hair. Louis’ thigh was between his thighs and his stomach was against his stomach and right then, in that moment, everything was Louis.

There was another sharp pull at Harry’s hair before Louis was saying “You never could give me a good answer.” And letting him go. 

And walking away. 

“Wait!” Harry called, and Louis didn’t even stop. “Please, don’t go!” 

“Follow me.” Louis grunted back, so Harry did with a little spring in his step. 

Which immediately disappeared when he realised that the room Louis was pushing him into was the actual men’s toilets. 

“Now piss.” Louis grunted, and Harry turned around to face the urinals. 

“I don’t need to.” Harry muttered back, and flinched when Louis growled. 

“Well what the fuck do you need?” 

“I don’t know. What do I need Sir?”

The room was silent, save for the drip-drip of a leaky faucet, when Harry felt a hand on his hip. The fingers dug in, and Harry leant into the touch. 

He pushed his arse back into the body behind him and moaned. But Louis stepped back, so Harry’s groan in pleasure turned into one of frustration. 

“What more do I have to do to get you to fuck me?” Harry turned as he asked it, catching the way Louis’ eyes flitted from his arse up to his flushed cheeks. “Don’t you want to put me in my place? Where is that place, Sir? You haven’t told me. Is it beneath you?”

But Louis’ gaze didn’t falter; he stood, just staring into Harry’s eyes, lips a hard line. Harry was just about ready to scream for Louis to do something already when the older man’s hand shot out and his fingers wrapped around Harry’s wrist. 

Harry sucked in a quick breath when he felt it, but was intent to stay still. He felt like he’d just caught sight of some rare creature and didn’t want to scare it away; like if he moved, Louis would bolt. 

Louis’ gaze dropped downwards, to where his knuckles were whitening from how tight his grip around Harry was. 

Harry looked there too, at how his hand was turning pink and his palms were beginning to sweat, so he witnessed the exact moment Louis let him go, leaving crescent shaped marks the size of Louis’ nails on the inside of his wrist. 

“Follow me.” Louis breathed out, and by the time Harry blinked the older man was already exiting the bathroom. 

Louis went down three flights of stairs, and a long hallway, and Harry began to recognise his surroundings. 

“The science labs? You going to fuck me on your desk?” Harry scoffed. 

Louis replied by slamming him into the wall, and when Harry sucked in a sharp breath Louis snarled “I’m going to fuck you on your old lab table and if you’ve got a problem with that then you can leave right now.” 

“Please.” Was Harry’s simple answer. 

Louis nodded once and let Harry go. 

Harry’s biceps felt bruised already from how hard Louis had gripped him, and all he could think about was taking his shirt off to see the marks Louis had already left on his skin and the new ones he was sure to get. Being marked had never been a thing for Harry, but he couldn’t wait to have signs of Louis all over him. 

To be able to push the bruises and run his fingers over scratches. 

They didn’t get much further than the classroom door before Louis had Harry’s back against a wall and his jeans around his ankles. 

When Harry’s brain caught up, he realised Louis was palming him through his pants and his cock was thickening quick. 

“You already gonna come, Styles? You really that easy?” Louis whispered harsh against his neck, and Harry swallowed audibly, his throat bobbing beneath Louis’ tongue. He was trying to calm himself down, trying to stop himself from coming before Louis had even properly took hold of him, but Louis started whispering filth again. “You going to come? Come your pants baby. Get them all wet.”

“Sir.” Harry whimpered, because he really was that close and he didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to come into Louis’ hand. Not without a cock up his ass, anyway. 

As if Louis could read his thoughts, he took his hand away to unbutton Harry’s shirt. He did it surprisingly slow, giving Harry time to notice how dressed the other man was and how loud his own breathing was compared to Louis’. 

Louis still looked as calm and collected as how he had in the hall, hair still neatly pushed back from his forehead and jacket still creaseless. Harry felt wrecked already. 

“I’ve never been fucked before.”

Louis froze, fingers gripping the very last of Harry’s buttons, and he looked up into Harry’s eyes. His expression was unreadable, and Harry couldn’t tell if what he’d just said was a good or bad thing. Either way, it was the truth. 

“You’re still going to fuck me, right?” he spluttered, when the silence got to be too much. 

Louis nodded shortly and began moving his fingers again, pulling Harry’s shirt off now that it was finally unbuttoned. “You’ve got a few things to learn.” Harry’s cock jumped, and Louis raised an eyebrow. “Like patience.” 

“Are you going to get your kit off?” 

“And obedience.”

“Yeah, fine. But – “ Harry was silenced by Louis’ teeth gripping his bottom lip, shocked by the sudden pain of it.

“Call me sir.” Louis growled, and Harry nodded sharply. “If you want me to stop, then say something. I've got common decency.”

“Is that why you didn’t fuck me when I was your student, Sir? You're too decent?” 

Louis’ hand was back on Harry’s cock, palm pressing down against the base, and Harry groaned. “I didn’t fuck you when you were my student because you didn’t deserve it. I didn’t want to. Now you need it.”

“Yes, Sir. Fuck, I need it.” Harry groaned, and Louis nodded his head once and pulled his hand away. 

“You ever sucked a guy off before, Harry?” 

Harry didn’t answer, just dropped to his knees and reached out for Louis’ zip. 

He yelped when Louis grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled up. “What did I say about patience?” Louis growled, and Harry was about ready to push Louis away and wank himself off he was that turned on. 

But he didn’t. Instead he gritted his teeth through the pain and grunted “That I need some. Sir.”

Louis let go of his hair, and Harry collapsed onto the ground. “Good. Now answer me.” 

“No.” Harry grumbled, and felt Louis’ fingers lacing through his hair. Before Louis could pull, though, he said “No, Sir, I haven’t sucked a guy off.” 

The fingers in Harry’s hair were careful. Instead of tugging Harry up by his hair, Louis moved his hand to cup Harry’s jaw and gently tilted his head up until their eyes met. Louis was smiling, so Harry smiled too. “Would you like to try?” 

Harry began to nod, but when he felt the pad of Louis’ thumb press against his neck he choked out “Please, Sir.” 

“Now you can touch me.” Was all Louis had to say before Harry was undoing his trousers and pulling out his cock. It was thick and long and leaking pre-come, and Harry didn’t really know where to start. 

Harry had to be just looking at it for at least a minute, and Louis’ grip on his chin wasn’t tightening at all; wasn’t pressing or pulling Harry closer. Harry snuck a glance up at Louis, who was just looking down, face soft, eyes glassy. It took some of the nerves away, his calm expression, so Harry wrapped his hand around the base of Louis’ cock and took the tip between his lips. 

With his tongue he gently pressed against the slit, tasting bitter precome and skin, before sliding it down further. He stilled when he felt Louis move his hand back up to card through his hair, expecting a sharp tug or at least for his curls to be gripped tight, but the pain didn’t come. Instead, Louis’ fingertips scratched lightly at his scalp in small circles, and Harry found himself humming at the feel of it. 

He was relaxed enough to take more of Louis in, getting his cock halfway down his throat before he gagged. It wasn’t so bad. Uncomfortable, yeah, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Harry just pulled back a little and hollowed his cheeks, giving wet pressure to Louis on all sides of his tip, snaking his tongue along the underside. And all the while, Louis’ hand was still carding softly through his curls. 

If Harry was getting his dick sucked, he’d be moaning and swearing and sweating, but Louis was as calm as he’d ever been. It was pissing Harry off. He was good at everything, and he sure as fuck was going to be good at giving head. 

He put his hands on Louis’ hips and pushed his head forward until he could feel the tip of Louis’ cock against the back of his throat. Louis made a choking noise and Harry pulled back and slammed forward. He sucked and licked and moaned, and hummed and choked and dribbled, and Louis’ fingers were getting tighter and tighter in his hair. Until suddenly they were gripping tight and pulling Harry back off his cock. 

Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and allowed himself to peek up. Louis was sweaty and red and his hair was finally beginning to fall into his face, and his lips were tight and his eyes were steely. He looked pissed. 

“Did I do something wrong, Sir?” Harry asked, smiling smugly, and if Louis was angry before, now he was fucking livid. 

“Stand up.” 

Harry did within seconds, albeit on shaky legs, and kicked off his shoes and the jeans that were still around his ankles. “Where do you want me?” he said with a wink, and wasn’t all that surprised when Louis’ hand was on his lower back to lead him to a table. 

“Take the stools off the desk.” Louis demanded, and Harry had them all tucked under the table within seconds. Louis chuckled throatily at that, and said “You were always the first in the room, but I never saw you take a single chair down or pack them away after class. Funny the things you’ll do to get my cock.”

“There’s a lot I’d do, Sir.” Harry purred, and Louis’ lips quirked into a small smile. Only for a second, before it was dropping and Louis’ hands were back to pushing him forward.

Until he was bent over a table, and Louis’ hands moved down to palm his arse cheeks.

“H-have you got lube?” Harry stuttered, because it hit him then what exactly they were going to do. He’d been lusting after Louis all night, sure, but he never thought much about the logistics. He’d never even watched gay porn. He’d had a few fingers up his arse during head and hand jobs, but no more than one at a time. _It has to be good for people to do it_ he reasoned as he heard the snapping noise of a cap being opened. 

“We’re going to go slow. Incredibly slow. You’ll be begging for more, and you’ll only get it if I think you deserve it. Got it?” 

Harry nodded, tensing up when he felt a wet finger at his rim. When Louis yanked his head back by his hair, he yelped out “Yes, fuck. Yes Sir.” 

Louis’ finger moved away from his arse, and instead slipped beneath his body to stroke the back of Harry’s balls. Louis cupped them lightly and rolled them in his hands, pressing up with the palm of his hand while his fingertips tickled the base of his cock. With his other hand, Louis reached around Harry’s hip and tugged at his cock until Harry couldn’t think about anything except Louis’ hands. 

It was a terrible time, then, for Louis to say breathily “Say something.” 

“Too much. Fuck, I can’t – I can’t breathe. I can’t think.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Fuck, no. I want more. I don’t know what more.” 

Harry could feel Louis chuckle into the back of his neck and he didn’t even care. He couldn’t care, because the hand that had been firmly stroking his cock had stopped and was just gripping his base. Harry looked down to watch as Louis made a V with his pointer and middle fingers and ran them back and forth along Harry’s cock, fingers grazing the sides, juncture stroking the underside. 

It was less but it was more, and Harry was too lost to even notice when exactly Louis’ hand had left his balls but he realised it when there was a wet fingertip slipping into his hole. It just kept going, and he could hardly feel it. He could just feel the digit wiggle inside him, and it was uncomfortable but not painful so Harry went back to fucking into Louis’ teasing fingers. It hadn’t really occurred to him that rocking his hips would push Louis’ finger further inside him until it happened. But it still felt like nothing, so it didn’t bother him. He kept rolling his hips and fucking Louis’ hand and was too relaxed to notice another finger sliding in beside the first. He noticed it though when it hit his prostate. 

“Fuck.” Harry groaned, snapping his hips forward instinctively. It meant Louis’ finger was no longer at that spot inside him and the sensation was lost, so he pushed his hips back into Louis, hips rolling until he felt that pang of pleasure again. 

“You want more, Harry?” Louis asked.

“Fuck me, Sir.” He moaned in return, and Louis shoved a third finger inside him. He gasped out, stilling his hips because he could really feel the stretch now. There was a slight burn to the stretch, but when Louis grazed his prostate again any feeling of discomfort was lost. “I’m ready.” He groaned. 

“Patience, remember.” Louis breathed into his ear. And Harry gritted his teeth and fucked himself back on Louis’ fingers because if he came before Louis got his cock inside him then that wasn’t Harry’s problem. Fuck patience. 

But it was like Louis was reading his mind, because suddenly his fingers were gone. All of them, out of his arse and away from his cock and all Harry could feel was cold air. Harry groaned, and reached for his cock but Louis’ fingers were around his wrist and holding his hand against the top of the table. 

“Patience.” Louis growled again, and Harry stilled. He even stopped breathing. He hadn’t realised how loud his breathing had been before he’d stopped and the room went dead silent, save for the sound of crinkling plastic. It made Harry turn, and see Louis rolling a condom onto himself, wrapper still clenched in his fist. He watched as Louis covered his cock generously in lube, and saw Louis reach around Harry with his wet hand. And even though he’d seen Louis’ movements, he wasn’t prepared for the hand that was wet and firm and wrapping around his cock to tug slow.

Harry was more than ready for the moment when Louis slid inside him. He did it slowly, and carefully, and everything about it felt gentle; Louis’ fingers around his cock and on his hips, how his breath was tickling the back of Harry’s neck, and the way Louis stopped moving all together when he was fully seated. Stopped stroking Harry’s cock and drawing circles against his hip and even breathing down his back. Everything was still and silent, until Harry began to rock his hips. 

Then Louis grunted “Good boy.” And Harry grew sure of himself, realising that this was what Louis wanted; Harry to fuck himself back onto Louis’ cock and into his hand. 

So he did. 

He started out slow and grew more fervent, desperate to feel Louis against his prostate again. But he couldn’t find it, and he groaned “I need you to fuck me, Sir. I can’t.”

“I said it would be slow.”

“ _Please_ ” Harry begged, incredibly close to tears. He’d been worked up since he’d seen Louis hours ago, and frustrated since Louis began toying with him, and now he just wanted desperately to come. Everything ached, from his knees to his abused scalp, and he just wanted Louis to pound into him. To fuck him hard and quick and to call him dirty names or even something sweet like _baby_. “Fuck me, Sir.” 

When Louis took his hand away from Harry’s cock, he groaned and whimpered and was ready to start begging all over again. Except before he could think of the words to say, both Louis’ hands were gripping Harry’s hips and he began to pound into him. He pulled out and rammed back in and Harry choked out a sob because _this_ is what he’d wanted since he’d seen Louis. It’s what he’d been begging for since Louis grabbed hold of his wrists and pushed him against a wall. To be fucked and fucked hard; to be used and left with bruises and aches he’d feel for days.

Louis was hitting Harry’s prostate every few thrusts, and each time Harry grunted or whimpered or moaned. His eyes were rolling to the back of his head and he was beginning to see white from beneath his lids, and Louis began to make these guttural grunting noises as he fucked in short thrusts. 

It was those noises that finally did it, had Harry throwing back his head and clenching his teeth and shooting come onto the very seat he used to sit at.

Louis let out a final growl before stilling inside Harry, coming into the condom, Harry’s arse clenching in spasms around him. 

When Louis finally pulled out and took a step back, Harry stood straight and turned around to face Louis. Who now looked as spent as Harry felt; his hair was a spiky wet mess and his cheeks were a bright red and his stomach was glistening with sweat. He was smiling too, wide and crinkly-eyed, and it was the kind of smile that was contagious so Harry didn’t even try to resist the pull of his cheeks. He just grinned back at Louis, and the older man shook his head and put his hand in Harry’s hair and roughed it up with his hand. 

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Louis interrupted with “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Say what you’re thinking?” 

Harry cocked his head and frowned. “What am I thinking?” 

“That I need to get laid more often so I’m not such a tight arsehole.” And despite Louis’ grin, his crinkly eyes were gone. 

“I wasn’t going to say that at all, actually.”

“What were you going to say then?” 

“That I quite like my new place.” 

And it was Louis’ turn to frown. “And what place would that be?” 

“The one beneath you.”

Louis laughed loud, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, and Harry smiled because this is what he'd always wanted, to make Mr Tomlinson laugh.


End file.
